Archive for Friday, December 16, 2005

Former Paw singer returns to stage as poet

December 16, 2005

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Mark Hennessy knows a thing or two about touring.

In the early 1990s, his band Paw was Lawrence's most promising act. The quartet's label, A&M Records, dispatched the group to various exotic locations, ranging from France to New Zealand to Singapore.

The singer is back on the road after a long hiatus away from the microphone. But for the first time ever, Hennessy finds himself on a book tour where he is reading selections from his debut collection of poetry, "Cue the Bedlam."

"The second you stand up to read a poem in front of a crowd, you can either embrace the performance aspects of what you're doing or ignore them," he says. "I choose to embrace them to the extent that I like a circus atmosphere."

The 36-year-old musician wrote the majority of the lyrics on Paw's three albums, 1993's "Dragline" (which sold several hundred thousand copies), 1995's "Death to Traitors" and 2000's "Home Is a Strange Place." He admits there are noticeable differences between composing poetry and songs.

Mark Hennessy, former frontman for Lawrence band Paw, will read selections from his new book of poetry, "Cue the Bedlam (More Desperate with Longing Than Want of Air)." In the early-to-mid 1990s, the aggressive rock act Paw found international success, with its singles "Jessie" and "Couldn't Know" often playing on MTV.

Mark Hennessy, former frontman for Lawrence band Paw, will read selections from his new book of poetry, "Cue the Bedlam (More Desperate with Longing Than Want of Air)." In the early-to-mid 1990s, the aggressive rock act Paw found international success, with its singles "Jessie" and "Couldn't Know" often playing on MTV.

"In song lyrics you can get away with saying something like 'pet the dog' three times in a row without having it sound completely inane," he says. "The power of the music will allow you to get away with lyrics that - if not stereotypical or uninspired - still have the same sort of ability to move the way words on a page do.

"I think that music is the more powerful form. If I had to choose between the way Mozart's 'Requiem' or 'Smells Like Teen Spirit' made me feel inside, versus when I read 'Hamlet,' I still think music wins. Poetry takes time to process, and it's a more subtle thing. But it can be just as powerful a tool for understanding the world. For me it has been."

Mules and sinking ships

After Paw disbanded in 2000, Hennessy frequently moved around in search of his next career. The journey took him to places such as New York City and Krakow, Poland, where his brother lives.

Now residing in Durham, N.C., the Kansas City native is currently working toward a Master of Fine Arts in poetry at North Carolina State, where he also is teaching creative writing and poetry to undergrads.

While the recently married writer is enjoying his studies, he is not quite so enamored with North Carolina itself.

"I don't like it nearly as well (as Kansas)," says Hennessy, who lived in Lawrence on and off from the time he turned 18.

Podcast



Paw and the glory days of grunge, an interview with Mark Hennessy on Lawrence in the early '90s.



Listen to the interview



"I always tell people I'm from a free state. It's strange for me to be around racism. In Durham just a couple months ago they were burning crosses. People there think that NASCAR is a sport. They refer to NASCAR drivers as athletes. They think George Bush is a good president."

It was actually while Hennessy was in Los Angeles where he became inspired to undertake "Cue the Bedlam" (Unholy Day Press, $12.50). The title of the collection refers to a time when he and two buddies were given free reign to drive laps at a go cart track by a preoccupied employee.

"Go carts with no supervision resembled in my head what bedlam is," he says.

Mark Hennessy

Mark Hennessy

According to his publisher, Hennessy's poems "embody anxiety and suffering, humor and redemption." And his work in "Cue the Bedlam" ranges "from the railroad yards of Kansas City, Kan., to the disastrous South Pole expedition of Sir Robert Falcon Scott, from mules in the salt mines of Wieliczka, Poland, to sinking ships in the Indian Ocean."

Hennessy says, "Some of the things are in blank verse, and for me to know that gives me a small feeling of accomplishment. The fact that I've taken all the bad, imitative poetry I did in my 20s and learned to deal with formal aspects gives me pleasure. I'm also proud that there are things that I've said well and in a novel fashion in the book."

No regrets

The former rock star says he still dabbles in music (he's busy concocting a version of Samuel Taylor Coleridge's "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" set to the music of "House of the Rising Sun"), but as an active member of the scene he's all but retired.

Past Event
Mark Hennessy book release and reading

  • When: Tuesday, December 20, 2005, 8 p.m.
  • Where: The Jazzhaus, 926 1/2 Mass., Lawrence
  • Cost: Free
  • More on this event....

"I love music," he explains. "I'm never going to be ashamed that it was part of my background. I feel better having that on my resume than being a member of ROTC or something."

Now Hennessy inserts the raw emotion characterized by the notoriously edgy Paw into his words on the page.

"One of the things that you have to get over is that your mom is going to read what you write," he says. "And while my mother may not be the person I most want to regale with tales of my self-abuse, there is nothing off-limits in poetry. If you can't talk about something in a poem, where are you going to be able to talk about it?"

Mark Hennessy poetry

Cold Water Trombone



When we were together,

he was in the ice-broken Potomac

and the rescue,

and the ladder,

and he passes it again to someone else.

I'm going to play trombone

in the fourth-floor hall

outside your apartment door,

backlit by the parts of the plane

not frozen, that are burning.

He passes the ladder

again to someone else.



I have on your father's

brown pin-striped suit,

dancing bandy-legged

treading sub-zero water,

outside your apartment door.

The trombone slides warm brass

down, down

and this time the ladder goes

untouched above the still water.